Page 47 of Love in the Shadows

He finished his glass of wine. “We have to eradicate them all.”

“You talk as if they’re rats.” She shivered at the distant look in his eyes. He was never going to be the man she’d once loved. He was quicker to anger, more violent, and blinded by his sense of duty. She’d seen the same changes in her father. Gerhard was in fear for his life, and he was forced to do what he had to survive. They were both stuck.

“Make no mistake, Johanna. These people would kill you in the blink of an eye.”

“And the Gestapo and the SS? They kill without a second thought.”

“That’s different.” He poured himself another glass of wine and drank it in one slug. When he looked at her, she felt his disapproval. “They’re doing a job, as you called it.”

“And for some men that’s just a licence to kill. Have you murdered people in the name of war, Gerhard?”

The war had brought out the worst in so many, but as she looked at her broken husband, she was going to make sure it brought out the best in her. “I’m going to bed,” she said.

He stood up and grabbed her arm. “You need to keep your opinions to yourself.”

His grip was firm enough to leave a bruise. “No, Gerhard. I need to set an example.” She shrugged him off.

He picked up his glass and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall and splintered across the parquet. “It has been brought to my attention that you have not supported the Nationalist Socialist Women’s League meetings since you arrived. You will attend them from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

Johanna stared at him, biting down the anger that would have her launching herself at him, clawing him, making him hurt as she was because of him.

He stormed out the door and up the stairs, the heavy thud of his shoes fading as he made his way along the corridor.

Johanna’s hands shook as she cleared away the glass. Angry tears slid onto her cheeks, and she suppressed the urge to scream. She would not go to the women’s meetings, to sit and listen to the propaganda that had destroyed everything she had held dear to her. Never, no matter what he said.

She went outside and threw the shards of glass into the bin.

A silhouette cut haltingly across the grass.

Her heart raced. What if Gerhard was right? Even if she wasn’t a direct target, her husband certainly was. Her tongue suddenly felt thick and her mouth dry, and her breath stopped as she watched the strange shape move along the treeline. It stopped and started again, stopped, and started again.

She tried to make herself smaller, pressed against the wall, and closed her eyes. Her heart tried to escape through her ribs. She thought about how brave Fabienne had been, and what she’d done to save people she didn’t even know. Johanna had to be stronger though she didn’t know how, nor what to do if the person approached her. She opened her eyes just a few seconds later and glanced around. The figure had gone.

Was she losing her mind, like Gerhard?

She looked again, searching the treeline, just to be sure. She couldn’t make out the odd shape on the ground at the edge of the garden close to her. If it was the person she’d seen, they could be dead by morning if they weren’t already. She edged closer. She bent over the body of a young woman curled in the foetal position, dressed in little more than Johanna, her legs bare, a yellow star sewn to her dress. The woman opened her eyes, looked up at Johanna, and tried to move away. It was then that Johanna noticed she was pregnant.

20.

FABIENNE WAS CHIPPING AT a new candle that Mamie had picked up from the church when there was an unexpected tap on the back door of the cottage. She quickly cleared the table, hiding the candle in the cutlery drawer, and lit a cigarette. The knock came again, more urgent this time.

Johanna stood outside in a dress and heeled shoes that would be more fitting at a dinner party. The woman she was trying to hold upright slumped heavily, head on her chest, but she was sure it was the Jewish prisoner who had given her the infant, Jacob.

“Putain!” Fabienne stepped outside, dropped the cigarette, and tucked her arm around the woman’s waist.

They half carried, half dragged her through the kitchen and into the living room and lay her on the couch.

“Mon dieu,” Fabienne said. “Putain, putain, putain!” She paced the room, scratching her head. What the fuck was she going to do with a sick escaped prisoner? She couldn’t take her to the usual hideout in the woods; in her state, she wouldn’t make it through another night. Putain.

Mamie came into the room. “What on earth?” Her eyes widened as she glanced from one woman to the other and settled her gaze on Johanna.

“We need as many blankets as we can spare. Take them from my bed,” Fabienne said.

Mamie left the room.

Johanna shivered and rubbed her arms. “It’s cold in here.”

Fabienne took off her coat and wrapped it around the pregnant woman. “We are out of wood,” she said. “With the injury, I haven’t been able to forage and I’m trying to preserve the furniture. Besides, it’s not freezing anymore.” She smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

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